


Unfit to Sans Trial

by Strut



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: All of the AUs all of them, Gen, Humor, Meta at Times, Poor Papyrus, Tongue-in-cheek, Why Can't I Hold All These Sans?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 20:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6299752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strut/pseuds/Strut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And so Sans looked down upon the fandom and behold it was overcluttered with alternate versions of himself. And reality is ready to flip tables unless Sans can reduce ranks. </p>
<p>The problem as it stands: Who stays and who has to go?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unfit to Sans Trial

“NO NO, IT’S FINE. IT’S AAALL FINE, JUST FIND A SEAT ANYWHERE, NYEH HEH. NO, NOT ON MY FEET. WHY WOULD YOU SIT ON-YOU TOO! MY HEAD IS NOT A CHAIR!”

“you said anywhere, bro,” snickered the Sans draped over his head. Papyrus plucked him off and held the grinning skeleton up in front of him. This particular one wore what Papyrus could only describe as a blanket with sleeves. Like this Sans had found a way to be even more slothful than his real brother.

“LAZIEST SANS, YOU CAN’T JUST SIT ON PEOPLE’S FACES WITHOUT CONSENT.” 

“that’s what she said!” at least a dozen Sans rattled off at once. Whoops of joy and high-fives went around the convention room. Papyrus moaned and buried his face into laziest Sans’s ribcage, muffling screams in microfleece. 

One Sans was bad enough! How was he supposed to deal with hundreds? As amazing as he was, even the great Papyrus had his limits.

Not that he was the only Papyrus. Here and there, towering over the infestation he called his older brother, versions of himself picked their way across the conference room. Some of them even seemed as great as himself! Maybe, Papyrus mused, that was why his alternates were so… sparse. There had to be a limited supply of such perfection.

Another Sans began tugging at his scarf. This one had a sparkling horn sticking out of his head. A furry blue tail twitched from beneath his colorful hoodie. “hey pap, you think you’re feeling _chair_ -itable to ask why numero uno sans couldn’t bring enough seats?”

Sigh.

“DESPITE EVERYTHING, IT’S STILL YOU,” Papyrus said in exasperation, rolling his eye sockets. The colorful Sans laughed before finding a place on the floor.

At least the one in his arms had already fallen asleep. For once, Papyrus resisted the urge to wake his older brother up, instead opting to place the extra lazy-bones in the back, where his real brother might not see him. That blanket-coat was looking way too comfortable to be a good influence.

“you ready, bro?” said yet another Sans. Papyrus spun around, no longer surprised at being snuck up on. They were all doing it. This one looked suspiciously like _his_ Sans, barring the strange white wig.

“BROTHER, IS THAT YOU?”

“yes, yes i am,” said a completely different Sans, this one sporting a fedora and very smug grin.

“heh, good one. but yeah, i’m the original. come on, looks like almost everybody’s found a place to lounge,” Papyrus’s brother said. Papyrus grimaced. Lounge was the right word. Tired Sans laying in the aisles. Brooding Sans leaning against walls. Silly Sans hanging from chandeliers. Where did they even get chandeliers? He swore, they weren’t there five minutes ago.

“HONESTLY BROTHER, WHY DIDN’T YOU BRING MORE CHAIRS?” he muttered as he tiptoed up to the conference stage.

“I’m going to _recline_ answering that question,” Sans punned. Of course he punned. _Every other Sans had punned. Why would his own brother not pun?!_

Sans climbed three shallow steps onto the stage and slouched over the podium in exhaustion. After catching his breath, he pulled out a bottle of ketchup and stood it by the microphone. Beside him stood the last empty chair in the room, a wobbly plastic mess, thoughtfully labeled “for my cool brother.”

Said cool brother narrowed his eyes at the forlorn chair, surprised that nobody had attempted to claim it. It looked innocent enough, even when Papyrus took a closer inspection. Nothing underneath it. No arms or cushions to hide anything in. Good.

He sat down.

A long, drawn-out fart filled the room.

A hundred different guffaws and snatches of incidental music followed.

“ _SAAAANS!!”_ Papyrus shrieked as he pulled out the whoopee cushion. How did Sans do it? How could he even be certain _his_ Sans did it?

“it’s ALWAYS funny,” Sans snickered at the podium, banging the top with his fist. After the room’s laughter died down, he took a swig of his ketchup before addressing the crowd.

“soooo… welcome everybody to the very first sans-apalooza 20XX. glad to see so many familiar faces, heh. and handsome. pretty much the best.” The school of skeletons cheered.

Sans took another swig of ketchup, waiting for them to die down. He swallowed and set the bottle back on the countertop. He hesitated. He tapped the dark wood with boney fingers. He hesitated again. Picked at the ketchup bottle’s label. Papyrus watched as a bead of sweat appeared from underneath the white wig.

Sans sighed, closing his eyes. “guess i’ll just say it. much as i’d like this to be a party, we’re here because we got a problem… heh, well okay, tibia honest _we are the problem_.”

The tension in the room jumped immediately. Some skeletons looked confused. Others started muttering to themselves, to each other, pupils snuffing out like candles. Papyrus frowned, feeling a very un-Papyrus-like unease begin to grow from where his stomach might be. He had known they weren’t here just to eat spaghetti and compare puzzle-making techniques, but his brother hadn’t mentioned a problem.

One of his sort-of brothers stood up, a Sans wearing a scarf eerily similar to Papyrus’s. A ketchup-stained gash decorated the front of his white coat.  “It’s the timelines, isn’t it. It’s the kid.”

“that was my first guess too, but no, it’s not frisk. heh, how do i put this. think of the universe as a clown car. we put too many jokers into it and now the driver can’t see the road. he smashes into an oncoming semi and all the clowns get cream-pied. giant missing shoes and bouncing red noses all over the pavement …ok, some of you are laughing. not cool.”

“I-I’m sorry… okay okay, I’m not sorry. That’s fucking hilarious. J-Just bits of facepaint splattered a l l  o v e r  t h e… _oh god_.” The pointy-toothed Sans doubled over with giggles, giving Papyrus a good view of his partially-shattered skull. His equally sinister brother smirked, tapping sharpened claws against his crossed knee.

“…alright, so that was a bad analogy and i shouldn’t have started with it,” Sans admitted, sucking down half the bottle of ketchup. “layman’s version since I know you aren’t all science geeks. variants of my dimension are reaching unsustainable numbers. the universe is getting peevish and reality is about to collapse into a pear-shaped black hole unless we do something drastic.”

“LIKE WHAT?” Papyrus asked, unable to keep the worry out of his voice. Sans turned his head to stare at him, eye sockets pitch black.

“we push the clowns out of the car,” he said.

His brother had never looked more serious.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: I write everything in Comic Sans first because why not.


End file.
